


Beyond the Platform

by arh581958



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Family, HP: Epilogue Compliant, M/M, Return to the Platform, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:29:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1535969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/arh581958
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For years they danced in a painful circle. Now years later, with their families fully established, is the time try again. They return home for the Christmas Holidays. Draco's wife still keeps on encouraging him to stop running. Meanwhile, things could not be merrier in the Potter household but still Harry's heart grows fearful of the secret he's been keeping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond the Platform

**Author's Note:**

> There were some discrepancies during the first story. I would like to clarify that James is currently in fourth year, Albus and Scorpius are in their third while Lily in in her first.

"It will be time to leave soon" The handsome blonde murmured more to himself while pushing his lips attempting hide the discontent. He gazed over the great hall that was covered lined with twelve huge pine trees covered in white. Students cowered over the tables, most eating their last meal in Hogwarts for the year. Even the ghosts seemed merry for the occasion, with old Sir Nick dancing around with the Grey Lady.

"Yeah" a voice caught him off-guard. Glancing up, he was greeted by the face he has just been reminded of—Harry appeared from the shadows, emerging from the great hall's antechamber.

"We better start packing then" He continued, suddenly being reminded of last month’s events. It had been a very long months for both of them, equally trying to avoid each other since their last encounter. But he has now choice, it was too late for anything now. He shrugged and returned his gaze towards the students.

“Look" Harry pointed out quietly, attempting to fill the silence between them—he too, transfixed on the sight at the Slytherin tables.  Draco followed his eyes. He spotted his own son amongst the Slytherin table, with a familiar looking boy beside him—Albus, he thought to himself. “If I was honest enough to be sorted into in Slytherin, that would have been us, you know?”

Draco scoffed, remembering their very first encounter just outside this very hall. “Whatever do you mean, Potter? I remember quite clearly that you saying which kinds of wizards you would rather be friends with. I think you made your point very clear.” It was somewhat of a jest but had sounded more bitter than he intended.

Still, it did not deter Harry’s smiling face. “Yeah. Maybe I was wrong…”

It was Draco’s turn to return a half-smile. “Or maybe I, the Weasleys are not all the bad. I believe the sentiments would apply to Granger now as well?” He said, motioning to the pair of reddish brunettes in the Gryffindor tables.

“Yes, she did marry Ron” He said with a chuckle. “But I believe you’re mistaken with the children.” He pointed out to a timid looking boy next to his daughter. “That over there, quite attached to my daughter, is little Hugo, their youngest and—” he paused to point a father away near the middle of the long table to a bushy haired red-head. “that is the living breathing example of how genes are passed down. She’s around the same age as Al, the top of her class just like her mother.”

“Unbelievable” Draco gawked. “Seems like the Gryffindor table is being flooded with red-heads; it’s like they’re breeding!”

Harry almost laughed out loud. “I don’t believe it’s the children’s fault. You can blame their parents for that.” Hesitantly he added "I will see you after the feast then…?" It sounded more like a question than a statement, like he was also trying to convince himself of those words. The other nodded and they parted ways. The younger years were ushered to their common rooms and while the fouth-years to seventh-years watched the hall transform right before their very eyes. Time for the Yuletide Celebrations.

_…_

At the Yule Ball they barely saw each other—too caught up in the celebration of their own houses and partially because they each had to guard their own commons so as not to let the younger years loiter around. Surprisingly McGonagall gave a very warm reception instead of the cold-composed features he normally wore during lessons.

"—I trust you all to have a goodnight of merriment and festivities. Tomorrow most of you shall be going home for the Winter Holidays. And, as for those who wish to stay, Hogwarts will always be open" She finished her speech and with a wave of his hand, white sparkles began to fall from the ceilings seemingly imitation snow fall. The students all cheered as music began to fill the hall.

Harry found the blonde potions professor amidst the bustle of the student population, discreetly blending into the background. Oh how could he ever have been so wrong? Despite the years, time has been the blonde’s friend, aging him to higher levels of handsomeness. The cool winter background only seemed to epitomize Draco’s previous title as the Sytherin Ice Prince. Although now, perhaps Ice King would be more appropriate. Quietly, Harry stepped beside him, not speaking.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked quizzically, slightly puzzled and mildly amused. He mentally fought a small smile from creeping onto his lips. ‘ _Because a Malfoy never displayed their hearts on their robes’_ he thought light-heartedly, remembering a phrase often repeated by his grandfather.

"Talking to you" Harry replied lamely. A lopsided grin painted his features and the shyness shown in his bright emerald eyes. But Draco merely looked away, forcing himself not to meet Harry's eyes. He would breakdown the minute he stared in those endless pools of green. Nothing had changed: there was no resentment over the years of abandonment—more loving than he’s ever seen them before.  It took nearly everything for him not to drown.

"Draco?" No sooner was the question asked that they heard the waltz stop and a set of footsteps in their direction. Without another thought, Draco stepped away and made space between them and separated himself from his earlier musings. From the crowd of students, a familiar looking brunette immerged.

"Pop, I beg you not to tell me you are not chaperoning this." The Gryffindor boy quipped, sloshing about sloppily what looked like spiked pumpkin juice. "Do you know how awkward that is?" He jested, sounding a bit slurred with flushed cheeks.  From behind him a cute blonde-haired witch shyly peaked. “Oh, how rude of me.. pop, if you will excuse me” gently leading the girl away from the scene without another look.

“James Sirius Potter, come back. Who is that with you!” Harry called but his son who disappeared in the crowd of teenagers—fourth years, fifth years, sixth years and strangely not us much seventh years as one might expect, all clothed in their fancy garments which twinkled under the enchanted lights.

"I'll see you" Draco said quickly thankful that his own son was still one whole year away from this embarrassment, giving Harry one last look. “You must go see to your, if I may be so frank, dead-drunk son.” He watched at the brunette nodded and made his way through the students. Beside one of the snow-covered trees, he rubbed his hands together remembering the brief brush with calloused fingers.

When the feast was done and the students were allowed to leave. Everyone exchanged their last farewells for the year before heading home for Christmas. The Yuletide Ball was a success causing much of the faculty’s worries to be eased. Few incidents of rule-breaking, dorm-hopping and inappropriate snogging were reported. The professors were gathered in the anti-chamber for one last toast to the season before heading off; all but one. Harry was missing from the scene, still suspected to be on the pursuit of his eldest son.

“Well Malfoy, ‘twas a good year I reck’n?” Oliver’s accent was a thick as ever as he greeted Draco with a lop-sided smile. Tonight his robes were blue, reminiscent of his Quidditch past. “Plann’n on some ‘er outdoor activities with m’ boys. How ‘bout you?” He added as they both walked towards the door.

Draco returned the gesture heartily, even lifting up his wine just a tad. “Nothing special. Just spending time with the missus family” He shared before nodding goodbye heading down towards the Slytherin Dorms where Scorpius was waiting for him.

…

He scanned the surroundings, careful watching eyes peering through the darkness in hopes to catch a glimpse of those unruly tresses. Alas, no such luck as he reached the common room entrance without so much as a glance. The DADA professor was still nowhere to be seen. He tapped on the cold stone wall, taking a minute to remember the password which changed every fortnight, before uttering it before stepping back. Slowly, the heavy stone wall shifted like they were weightless yet the sound of grinding stones remained. It opened towards the grand dim-lighted Slytherin Common Room.

Students immediately scrambled to their feet at the sight of the Professor, fearful of what the strict Potions Master might do. It was mostly the younger years which had reacted to his presence, a few higher years who were sober enough to recognize him while a majority lay passed out scattered around the blue-green flames. There was a familiar smell of firewhiskey in the air—someone was definitely going to get detention for spiking the pumpkin juice.

“I see the you the Yule Ball was quite—“ he paused looking for a word that wasn’t so undignified. “—amusing” Looking around, he recognized some of the face; faces of his friends and that of his other housemates during his time in Hogwarts. Parkinson resembled her mother so much that there were barely any signs of Greg at all. “Miss Parkinson” he acknowledged somewhat warmly. “How’s your mother?”

The fourth year nearly stuttered, face flushed from what Draco suspected to be the spiked juice. “F-fi-fine sir. Mom’s out in Paris for a bit of Holiday shopping but say’s she’ll be home to pick me up.” She quipped with a hiccup. Hands immediately covered her mouth in embarrassment.

“Very well. Send her my greetings.” With a wave of his wand, the unconscious students were gently lifted from their places. “It’s about midnight now, you should be all preparing for tomorrow’s early departure. I highly recommend best you all rest up. Wouldn’t want a howler right before the holiday, oui? ” The last sentence broke the children from their fear-induced trance, scrambling once more towards their rooms despite their pure-blooded descent. He motioned for the remaining students to vacate the common rooms, as he slowly levitated the slumbering students to their beds. 

“Papa?” A sleepy voice drifted to him as he set the last of the students to bed. It was a lanky looking seventh year boy with the most peculiar coloured hair—honey blond hair with traces of brown lowlights. He thought nothing of it as he turned to see the other occupants of the room. His son was on the adjacent standard double bed.

“Heya Scorp, didn’t wake you did I?” He whispered with a smile, gliding towards the opposite site without so much as a ‘click’. The young boy shook his head sleepily. The heavy grey sheets, thick enough to fight the cold dungeon temperature, pooled just before the lad’s chest as he sat up. “What have you been up to?”

“Been trading cards with Al” he mumbled softly, one hand coming to brush off the remnants of sleep from his eyes. “Must have” yawn “fallen as ‘leep. Did ya know his dad was in the cards? So cool! Professor Potter must’ve great” there was another yawn before he felt his way around the bed, in an effort to present the said card to his father when suddenly a knobby knee sprang from under the covers.

“Al…Al…” the young blond whined, pushing against the lump that Draco had failed to notice. “Quit yer moving ‘round. This ain’t yer bed” It caught Draco shock to find that his son was currently sleeping with Potter’s son. Albeit that they were still fully clothed, upon his visual inspection, he never realized that they were very close. The boy beneath the sheets merely shuffled so Scorpius attempted once more. “Albus Severus. Wake. Up.” He pushed a harder this time, causing the brunette to peak from the covers.

“Whatchawant Scorp? ‘m trying to sleep.” The brunette mumbled, finally popping out his head.

“Go sleep in your own bed, Al.”

“Dun wanna” came another mumble “like this bed. ‘t so warm”

“But Al…” Scorpius desperately tried “…father has come to fetch me. We’re going home tonight. Didn’t I tell you this over dinner?” But there was no response. Shaking his head, the blond detangled himself from the mass of sheets, fixing his clothes in the process as he swung his legs to the side. There was an audible groan from the bed. The creases on his clothes were evident even as he pressed them smooth. He wasn’t wearing his nightwear, but instead donned a pale blue shirt and khaki ankle-length pants.

“You’re going home like that?” Draco mused, hoping that his composure was somewhat intact.

“I’ll be wearing my robes, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Your mother would have my head” he whispered a small incantation than pressed Scorpius clothes neatly removing any traces of wrinkles. “Or rather, she’d force me into the kitchen to help her with her muggle baking techniques” The young boy smiled appreciatively and proceeded to take his chest for the holidays. With both hands gripping the side handle, he jerked at the heavy box which made a ‘THUNK’ against the bed frame.

“SCORPIUS YOU CAN’T GO. YOU PROMISED WE’D PLAY DURING THE HOLIDAYS!” The brunette burst, throwing back the covers as far as he could manage. The heavy material landed with a soft thud. Chocolate Frog cards fluttered around the bed with the gush of wind. “YOU CAN’T GO YET. YOU SIMPLY CAN’T LEAVE—”

Embarrassed, Scorpius was quick to cover the other’s mouth muffling what came next. “Al you’re embarrassing me in front of my father. You need to keep quiet and keep still” he insisted, adding more pressure on his hand as the brunette struggled. He had meant every word, knuckled slightly turning white, he knew it was just enough pressure not to bruise Albus’ face.

“It’s just the holidays. You’ll be fine” but Al shook his head. “We’ll—s”

“Enough” Draco’s voice loomed over the pair, striking a pose similar to that of his father before him. “Cease this foolishness as this instant Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy.”

The effect was immediate as both boys bolted upright without another word. There was some shuffling from the adjacent bed, but the older boy was too intoxicated to stir awake. A pregnant silence fell upon them except from the rough grunt from the other side.

“Scorpius, why don’t you just invite young Mr. Potter to the Yuletide? You may invite him to arrive earlier in the morning if you wish. We are already late as it is, Astoria shall be very worried. We mustn’t worry her too much.”

In shock, Scorpius could only do as he was asked. “Al, we’ll see each other soon. See? Yulitide is on the 24th of December, just before Christmas and we have it every year. Remember the endless chocolate fountain I was telling you about? Would you like to go in the morning so we can spend time in the field or maybe the library?”

Still in awe, Albus could merely nod his head both in fear and excitement over what had just transpired. Professor Malfoy has indirectly invited him over for the holidays. His uncle and mother were going to blow their noggins off when he tells them.

“Excellent” the older Malfoy commented, motioning for his son to follow him out the door. He has his hands in his robes as he walked out, robes gliding behind him.

“I’ll see you on the 24th. Okay Al?”

“Ok” from the slightly ajar door, Al watched the sudden burst of green flood into the room—one, two times. He knew that they were gone.

…

"Harry" a distinct female voice came from behind him, tenderly a feminine hand touched his shoulder. "The train will be arriving soon, we better step outside" she informed him. Harry turned away from the window and forced himself to smile back. She extended a hand towards him and he silently smiled in return before taking it. Hand in hand they walked out of the small muggle coffee-shop and made their way to King’s Cross.

As the students dispersed, Harry was left staring out into the platform—waiting. What happened? He asked himself dumbly thinking back at his last conversation with the blonde. When Harry had left Hogwarts the just night before, he forced himself to leave behind forbidden desire locked inside his heart and swore to forget what had transpired during their last encounter. Draco had pushed him away, rejected his feelings once more. Yet, he could not supress feelings remaining; along with it, he the promise that no matter what—he was still waiting for the blonde’s return.

The vapour on the platform was so dense, and it was difficult to make out anybody’s faces. Detached from their owners, the voices sounded unnaturally loud. Harry though he’d heard Percy discoursing loudly on luggage regulations for the holidays, and was quite glad he of the excuse not avoid saying hello. But it was far from the voice he had wanted to hear all day. All wanted was to tune out the world and focus on finding that one voice amongst thousands.

“Pop!”

“Dad!”

“Daddy!”

Three voices came through the thick mist of the Scarlet Hogwarts Express’ steam. A group of three people emerged from the mist, making their way steadily towards the couple. Even through it was hard to recognize their features, Harry was beyond doubt that they were James, Albus and Lily.

“You all look marvellous!.” said Ginny, coming forward to embrace the trio. “Albeit a bit skinny if you ask me” she added, feeling up their sides one by one especially her boys for any remnants of Quidditch injuries over the term. Thankfully none of this winced and had only covered their faces in embarrassment over the mothering of their mother.

“Where are they?” Albus anxiously asked, peering at the hazy forms that passed at they made their way up the platform. His question mirroring his father’s anxiety while identifying the people passing by.

“Looking for someone, pop?” James quipped from beside him, mimicking his long strides as they ascended the platform. The memories of the dark lord were fleeting with very few recognizing who he was; it felt as they were just another ordinary family.

Harry took a moment to answer, sidestepping slightly to avoid a father-son pair. “I’m looking for your aunt and uncle, of course” he answered coolly, “they should be around here somewhere." One last look, he turned away from the scarlet train and towards the exits.

“There they are!” shouted Albus, automatically making his way to the pair who were seemingly waiting at the exit post. Their faces only came to focus when Harry, Ginny, James and Lily were drawn right up to them.

“Where’s Ron?” she quipped after giving Hermione a tight hug and kiss on each cheek.

 “Off to the loo with Hugo.” she replied, giving Harry the same greeting as Ginny, “Gin, I suggest you take Lily as well since the trip to the Burrow is awfully long.”

Ginny bent down to face Lily “Would you like to go to the loo, darling?” Their youngest immediately nodded, offering her hand up for her mother to take. “That settles it; I’ll see you all in a few.”

“Harry, how is Hogwarts?” Hermioned asked. Albus and Rose were already talking indiscreetly in a few feet away near their trolleys. On her face was the same concern all those years ago during the search for hocruxes. It’s like she could see right through him.

“Better” was the only word Harry could think of. “It’s like I’ve joined a secret society called the ‘Hogwarts Faculty’ because it’s been one hell of a term. There are still endless rooms to discover, ever-changing hallways that we never saw when we were students. I never even realized that Howgarts was so, so, big.” He paused, remembering the times spent in Malfoy’s personal chambers, “It feels like a second home, my second home.”

It was enough to ease Hermione’s worries. She has been anxious when Harry announced he was leaving Auror training in order to take up the post of DADA in Hogwarts. He had fought so hard to repress and forget the memories of the Final Battle but yet he chose to return to where it all happened. Yet seeing him now, there was a genuine glow when he talked about his new profession. Perhaps he was always meant to teach?

The steam thinned for a moment and James came into view once more. The boy looked so much like his father except for his hazel coloured eyes, reminded her of Harry when they were in fourth year. But he was different all the same, maybe taking after his grandfather and his namesake—a mischievous young lad who was inquisitive beyond his years.

“Look who it is” James said, peering into the distance. Harry, on instinct, followed his son’s gaze hoping to find a group of three standing in sharp relief to the shifting mist but instead he found a pair of redheads making their way across the platform towards them.

James had watched his father’s eyes and how they visibly dimmed when he recognized who he had pointed to. “Something wrong, pop?” He saw his father shake his head in response. It was unmistakable what he’d seen, but he had no idea why.

He watched as the pair closed in. Uncle Ron had removed Hugo from his shoulders; the lad quickly made his way to Albus and Rose. With the three adults united, the golden trio was completed once again. Seeing them together made him curios of how they must have been during their days in Hogwarts. Aunt Hermione was laughing that Uncle Ron had said and his father was laughing alongside them—probably remembering something from their younger years.

His mother returned, with Lily in tow, and the small group made their way out of the King’s Cross Station. They each boarded their humble looking cars, mid-sized vehicles which were enchanted on the inside to mimic a small house. A glamour caused muggled to believe that it was a regular family car—parents in front, two boys on each size and a little girl squeezed comfortably in the middle of the backseat. They looked like an ordinary family, but that was just to those who didn’t look close enough.

…

Malfoy Manor has held its splendour over the years, still majestic, still elegant, but warmer than it had been in generations. Draco and Astoria has managed to fill the home with something that had been lost over the years of prearranged marriages for social and political gain—love. Although their love was never romantic, it hindered not their affection for their only son. Astoria, strong and confident in her own charms, brought life back into the gloomy estate. In many ways the petite blonde proved time and time again that she was the perfect wife—for Draco, at least, he could not have done better.

“Mum!” Scorpius called out ecstatically upon seeing his mother for the first time in months.  They arrived straight into the parlour where Astoria was patiently waiting, book in hand and legs tucked underneath her near the fire while she leaned against the cushions. She has welcomed them both with a warm smile and opening her arms towards them. Both males eagerly went into her embrace.

“My little angel, look how much you’ve grown” she whispered back to him, “in a few short years you will be just as tall as your father. Woe is me, the shortest in the family once more” Her humour was rewarded by a soft chuckle from her husband once the three of them parted, Draco’s hand resting affectionately on her lower back.

“You must not fret, you will always be the most beautiful” Going back, being back in her arms, was like a breath of fresh air; it places him the most at ease he’s been in ages. With memories of Potter still lingering on his lips, he pressed them together and drew closer to his wife. It was good to be with family—his family once again.

Astoria giggled as his remarks. She has missed him too; month of being alone in the manor was restless without her favourite companion. “I was awfully lonely without you.” She remarked, kissing him on the cheek but Scorpius was at her side before she could say anymore.

“Mum, I have a question to ask you.” The boy said meekly, both hands fidgeting behind him.

“What is it love?” In the comfort of their home, she was not afraid to kneel. A pureblood must remain in perfect posture at every instance. At the moment, her son was more important. She kneeled to just about his height, her dress pooling around her.

“Papa said, I could invite someone to the Yuletide.” He started, “But I wanted to ask your approval before we sent the invite.”

She lifted an eyebrow inquisitively as she turned to husband for confirmation. Draco merely nodded. “How sweet of you, love.” she said, dusting of the last bits of floo power on Scorpius’ shoulders, “And who, pray tell, would this particular someone be?” she asked in amusement. Peculiar, it was very peculiar for her husband to even agree to such an idea without consulting her first.

“Albus. It’s Albus Potter”

Her sharp eyes merely glanced at her husband to see him forcing back a flinch. “I see… he could not possibly be related to anyone named Harry now, can he?” She knew full well the answer to the question but that childish nature of hers needed just a tad bit of fun.

Scorpius nodded his head enthusiastically. “He’s the son of the new DADA Professor, Professor Potter. I think ‘Harry’ is the professor’s given name. He joined the faculty this year. Did you go to school with you?”

Astoria couldn’t stop her chuckles. “Why that’s fantastic news! As a matter of fact, I do know the new professor. Did you know that your father and he used to battle wands before? Enemies, you could say, they were never really fond of each other. Didn’t you, Draco?” Oh she meant the duality of those words, earning a playful kick on her backside.

“Astoria, I regret to inform your mischievous mind that Professor Potter and I happen to get along just” he paused, chocking back on the word “fine. He’s a marvellous DADA teacher and I respect his craft.”

“Then that settles it, we’ll send them the invitations in the morning. Would you like to send you friend a letter in it as well?” She earnestly asked, dusting off her knees as she stood up. The boy beside beamed. This wasn’t the first time Scorpius has invited friends over but it was definitely a first time for someone beyond their family to attend to the Yuletide. With one last hug and kiss, he left the parlour and proceeded to draft his letter.

“You definitely have something to tell me, dear.” she jested, turning around in hope to lighten up the mood. “You never owled that a certain someone had begun teaching in Hogwarts. I might be a little jealous that you beginning to keep secrets” she was kidding of course, but stopped seeing as she did not get the reaction she sought for. 

“Draco” she called out to him, turning around, worried now “You have been awfully quiet since you arrived AND you are freezing cold. Did you come from the dungeons?” to which the man just nodded. “Come here, sit with me by the fire and tell me what happened.”

Draco meekly followed but did not say a word.

“Darling, do tell me, what is bothering you” she urged, sitting closer to him with her back towards the fire. There were very few times when she called him ‘darling’ and usually they were not happy times. “Are you really alright with inviting Albus to the party? You do understand that _he’ll_ have to come as well, yes? Will you be okay?”

“I…” but Draco could not find the strength in his voice. Astoria read into his eyes, clear blue eyes looking into Draco’s grey orbs.

 “Oh darling” she gasped, taking his freezing hands in hers. Draco was deathly pale. “Draco…” she began slowly “did something happen while you were away?” To this Draco lowered his eyes, the first sincere reaction she has gotten from here all evening. She pulled him into an embrace, feeling his arms wrapped around her torso.

“My dear, honest Slytherin, won’t you be honest with me once more?” It was a code, their code referring to their first encounter; a code that only the two of them knew about, whether in humour or in uncertainty—they would always go back to that faithful day on the train.

“I… he… we kissed.”

She released him from the embrace, cupping his face in her hands. “That’s fantastic” she whispered, yet sadness was in her voice. “You’ve finally caught your mouse! But why do you look so, so, sad?”

“I… I turned him away.”

“And why would you do that, dear? You’ve wanted this; you’ve wanted him for so long. Since the day I met you, that is the one thing that has never changed.” It was true. He forced himself to deny that despite the years that have passed, he was still head over heels for the once Gryffindor man.

“I told you he was interested” she pressed on when Draco remained silent. “So why run again?”

“He has family.” he whispered back, tightening the grip on her waist.

“So do you”

A pregnant silence fell around them, neither cared for how long.

“I’m sorry” was all Draco could manage to say.

“Bullocks” He heard her say under her breath while she continued to hold a gentle smile. “Draco, you don’t honestly believe that… Why don’t you consider playing cat instead of mouse instead?” Her tone grew serious while her voice grew soft. Words repeated from those she has said once before. She held him tighter with as the silence grew before pulling back.

“It’s not like you have much of a choice.” She stood up, gingerly offered a hand for him to follow. But he declined. “I’ll be in the bedroom. We’ll be sending them the portkeys tomorrow.”

…

Harry woke to a consistent tapping from above him. Blinking rapidly, he felt his way through the end table for his glasses. He finally felt the thin-framed spectacles and placed them on his nose. Their room in the burrow did not have much a door, let alone need any knocking this early in the morning. Not even the smell of Molly’s honeydew pancakes has filled the air yet; it must be earlier than dawn. He looked around to find the origin of the noise.

‘tick, tick, tick… tick’ the four-beat knocking continued. Until finally he found it, perched on the window was an eagle-owl he was all too familiar with. Very briefly he remembered, Hedwig. Shaking his head, he groggily untangled himself from Ginny and Lily’s limbs before climbing off the bed. Opening the window, he jumped back when the said creature sprang inside, circled around before dropping a letter next to his son.

Albus didn’t even flinch. In an instant, the animal was gone, flying into the dark horizon from which it came. It was a breed Harry was all too familiar with, endless nights, countless letters—it was a Malfoy owl, he was bloody sure about it. He thought back to Albus’ words of a party just before the train departed. He never thought anything about it until now. When the crisp white and silver letter before him.

“Al…” he called out, slightly shaking the boy’s shoulders from the upper bunk. The boy stirred but did not awaken. “Al…” he tried again, earning nothing more than a groan this time. “Al… Wake-up, there’s a letter from Scorpius—“ his son bolted awake at the name.

“IT’S HERE!” the boy shouted, simultaneously waking the rest of the room’s occupants.

“Albus!” came Ginny’s stern voice, currently wide awake and hands patting Lily back to sleep. “What in Merlin’s beard are you shouting about!”

The boy carefully bowed his head. “Sorry, mum.” He said quietly, before looking at the letter on his side. He looked over at his father beside him, muttering an apology as well. “Did I wake you too, dad?”

Harry warmly smiled and shook his head. “Who do you think let the owl enter in the first place?” he chucked as he peered closer to the letter. Albus smiled back appreciatively. But before anyone else could speak a loud voice interrupted them.

“ROOOOOONALD WEASLEYYYYYY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY KITCHEN?!” Molly’s voice cut through the silence all the way from the first floor of the burrow, which was no small feat considering that they were on the highest floor. There was a rumble in the kitchen followed by loud banging. Suddenly the entire Weasley clan was awake and were heading to down to see what happened.

Ron was currently sitting in on one of the mismatched dining chairs, head-to-toe covered in what only looks like flour. Beside him, numerous enchanted brooms, wash clothes and buckets were hurrying about cleaning up what remained of the mess that woke everyone up. “Was just trying to make breakfast” he mumbled under his breath while Hermione removed the last trace of white gloup on his hair.

“What happened?” George piped up from the other entrance to the kitchen. Beside him was Angelina and tucked between them were Fred II and Roxanne. All four were peaking shyly into the kitchen. “Is little brother trying to sneak some cookies again, mum?” Ron, in response, just glared back.

“He attempted to cook, that’s what. Nearly blew the oven into bits but it got to him first.” Molly’s ever so motherly voice flooded in, despite the age she still held her merry stature. She brought him with her the largest stack of pancakes and waffles only the Weasleys could have ever witnessed to be stacked non-magically on a single plate and easing it into the table. It was something Molly learned from those American Cooking shows she’s recently acquired. The mass wobbled but did not topple, and children pounced without hesitation, scrambling to get the biggest pancake from the lot.

Ron finally stood up and offered Victorie his seat. She took it gratefully, before taking a huge mountain of waffles and sausages that nearly covered her. Along the way, she helped her younger brother Louis with the beans and her younger sister to reach for some eggs, moving in a way that seemed almost ethereal—she’s half-veela by the way.

“She looks awfully starved” Ron remarked to his older brother Bill, who had a cast on his arm from another curse during his last case with Gringotts.

“She’s nearing her inheritance; it takes a lot of our stamina when it arrives.” Fleur musically replied, waving her veela essence around her unconsciously. Ron was the immediate recipient of the effects and began to slightly drool. A quick kick in the shin quickly resolved it. Thankfully Bill’s magic was able to supress her natural allures, just enough for the whole family to enjoy their time together.

“Harry, you woke up so early this morning. I thought you’d sleep in after the long journey.” Ginny said as she took a seat beside him. All of them were gather in a makeshift dining area outside, enough to enjoy the morning sun and vast open meadows. They were eleven in total, with Percy the only one lacking in attendance. He has what he had always wanted yet something felt empty within him.

“Harry?” Ginny tapped him again.

“Sorry” he mumbled back, “I was thinking about something”

“Hmm?” her questioning tone came while she was buttering a piece of bread.

“It’s just that. I’m really so thank you for all you.” he spoke out, “Sitting here today, I’m with my family” It was enough to quieten the rest of the conversation of the group. He rarely has these lapses when he remembered the horrible childhood feeling alone underneath the staircase. Today was one of those days, perhaps because of the rejection from the blonde only days before.

“Oh Harry” Hermione was the first one to hold his hand from beside him. Ron followed after stuffing one last biscuit in his mouth from across the table. Both Molly and Arthur stood up from their seat at each end of the table, the rest of the family followed. It was comforting yet suffocating at the same time, because no matter how hard he tried—he was longing for someone else.

“Thank you” he whispered just enough for all of them to hear.

…

It was mid-afternoon. They were gathered in a make-shift Quidditch pitch. Harry settled on the ground hear their basket, Ginny beside him. Both were sweaty from the previous game and were just substituted out by Fleur and Ron, respectively. It was a nice feeling, but the wrenching in his gut had yet eased. Harry sighed heavily once more.

“Albus received a letter this morning.”

“Hmm” Ginny hummed from beside him, already lying on the ground in relaxation. She picked up one of the madeleines which Fleur had brought before continuing “Anything special?”

“Malfoy’s owl delivered it.”

“What?!” She bolted upright, looking at him in shock. “Albus got an owl from Malfoy? He’s only in second year; it should be another year before he takes potions.”

Harry paused, somewhat unsure of what to say next. “It’s not from uhm” _should he say the older blonde’s given name?_ He shook his head and cleared his throat. “I think it’s from Scorpius.”

“Oh” Ginny sighed with relief, leaning back on towards the grass and the madeleine still in hand. “Are they close?” Above them, the rest of the family zoomed in the air on brooms. Meanwhile Hermione was on the grass, not that far away, helping Molly with the afternoon sandwiches.

“Very.” Harry half-chuckled, “Kinda reminds me of Ron and I sometimes when I see them together.”

“That close, huh?” she said, fighting back the spite she still held for Lucius from all those years ago. But she was thankful in part because it he had not given her the diary, Harry would never have noticed her as anything beyond Ron’s sister.

“Yeah” her husband mumbled back, opening a bottle of butterbear before scooting beside her. “Are you..” he was careful to phrase the delicate subject “..still haunted by Riddle’s diary?”

Ginny shook her head. “I haven’t had any dreams since the Final Battle. You?”

It was Harry’s turn to shake his head. “By time we get it all behind us?” he gulped, “Don’t you agree?”

There was silence around them until Ginny finally spoke. “I guess it’s for the best, right?” she looked up to him with questioning eyes, gravely unsure if she should agree to their attendance. After all, it was not Draco who placed that diary amongst her things, it was his father.

“Albus would definitely be happy” ‘ _and so would I_ ’ was left unsaid. Once more Ginny looked up into his eyes.

“Harry.. I..”

“Mommy!” a high-pitched voice rang out, there was a flash of red and all of a sudden a heavy object collapsed on her midsection.  

“Lily? What’s the matter, love?” She asked, completely forgetting the earlier conversation with her husband. The game seemed to have been paused. One by one, players landed on the ground and dismounted their brooms.

“I hurt my finger” she mumbled in-between sniffles. Ginny took the finger gingerly in her hand to inspect it—a small cut appeared when she peered close enough.

“This little thing?” she said in jest, face tickling Lily from the sides. “This little thing hurt by baby girl? Do you want mommy to kiss it better?” she asked, earning a slow nod from their youngest. She did so, placing the small cut near her lips before mutter a soft incantation, wand behind Lily so the little girl wouldn’t see. Magic tickled the small cut briefly before it finally disappeared.

“There” she pointed, “it’s all better, see?”

Harry watched his wife and child interact. He was happy—he should be happy, at least. Ginny had given him everything he had always longed for. She has been the reason for him finally being legitimized on the Weasley family tree, she bore him three wonderful children, and she had always been there each time when the blonde ran away. She should have been his everything, but she was not.

Each time he held her close, he fought the images of blonde hair instead of red. Every single time she looked into his eyes, he forced himself to stop imaging that they were grey instead of brown. For every kiss she placed on his lips, he tasted a different mouth. The touch of fingers to rough from all the broom-friction on the field, not delicate like he wished for. Her smell of roses and cinnamon were not that of vanilla and spices which ignited his desires.

Ginny was a good wife, but he didn’t love her. It was something he could never bring himself to admit let alone say aloud. The year he proposed was the year he promised to forget everything about Draco Malfoy but yet on their wedding night, the slytherin boy was all he could picture. Finally, he thought it was what he wanted—a family of his own but the bitter taste was left on his tongue every time he thought about Draco and Astoria. But it was not enough to appease his longing for the blonde purebred.

Ginny could replace Draco. He loved her, more than a friend, more than as sister, more than any other woman on this earth but she was not Draco. She could not boil his blood the way Draco did. She could not command him like Draco did. She could not, she could never replace Draco. And he felt guiltier every time he saw her smiling face.

No matter how hard he wished for his feelings to grow.  It wasn’t until nineteen years later that he finally realized Ginny was not Draco.

“I heard you’re going to the ferret’s house for Christmas?” It was Ron who broke his deep thoughts. Gathered around the picnic basket, they sat cross-legged on the grass eating Molly’s marvellous sandwiches, hearty and kept warm by a heating charm, every single bite taste of home and love.

Harry merely nodded, chewing a particularly thick piece of meat before swallowing. “Al received the invitation letter this morning.” He declared, pulling out the piece of parchment from his back pockets. It was only a short lettercard with the first lines addressed to _‘Mr. and Mrs. Potter’_.  In the middle, a small wing shaped feather was attached; it was almost pure white except for the teal coloured tips.

“Looks expensive” was the only thing Ron could say.

“Well, I think it’s a marvellous idea to finally patch things up between the three families” Hermione quipped from behind them in her ever so matter-of-fact tone which reminded them of their days in Hogwarts. “Malfoys, Potters and Weasleys; all finally burying the past behind them. Maybe Albus being sorted into Slytherin wasn’t such a bad call by the sorting hat, right Harry?”

Even as the years passed, some things were resilient to change. Both men meekly nodded, quickly earning a playful punch on the arm each. Then they burst out laughing. “We can’t help it ‘Mione” Ron said between fits of laughter. “You sounded just like you did in school” Harry continued.

It earned them another punch in the arm from a slightly fuming Hermione and the rest of the afternoon was spent in laughter. She pretended not her husband’s jest but Ron was one of best friends and the brother she never had rolled into one.

…

The air was cool, the breeze was steady. On the 24th of December, Draco woke with a startle when the wards informed him of their guest. Glancing over to his side, Astoria lay in peaceful slumber unaware of the new presences. Since he was home, the wards automatically transferred to him recognizing him as the head of the family. He was the only one bothered by the alerting magic. He rose to his feet, grabbing his thick robe to cover himself. He walked to the window, frozen by what caught his eye—three brunettes making their way up to the Manor door.

“Draco dear, why are you awake so early?” but the man was still too frozen in place “Is someone there? It’s a bit too early for the portkeys… who could it be?” she rubbed her eyes lightly until the realization hit her like cold water. “Don’t tell me he’s here?”

She suddenly remembered spelling their portkeys to open earlier than the rest of their guest so as to give Scorpius enough time with Albus. But she never expected them to come this early. She waved a tempus charm, _9am_ it read. Quickly shrugging on her robes, she padded barefoot towards her husband to pull him away from the windows. “Come on dear, best not keep our guests waiting”

“Good Morning”

Harry was excepting one of the Binky the house elf to open the door but instead they were welcome by a beautifully blonde-haired woman who wore a gracious smile—Draco’s wife. He momentarily forgot his voice. Even in a simple dressing gown, which looked like their night robes coloured a deep magenta that contrasted her platinum locks, she was stunning. But she was not what caught his attention. Draco stepped out from behind her, arm protectively placed on her waist. Harry forgot to breathe.

“ALBUS!” a small child sprinted form behind the two adults. He recognized the boy from the pictures in Draco’s chambers.

“Scorpius!” his youngest child rushed forward and the two second years hugged in the middle of the snow-covered ground.

“Scorpius” Draco’s stern voice came.

To Draco, nothing rattle him more than the reality of the situation—Harry was right here on his doorsteps. It was a sight that he had accepted long ago would never become a possibility yet it was happening. The brunette still looked as breathtakingly handsome as their last meeting, if not perhaps slightly thinner. Those evergreen orbs glancing towards him with a mixture of joy and sadness, something that he could not understand.

“Please do come inside” Astoria told them warmly. She pressed herself more firmly against her husband, hand on his chest similar—a gesture he saw on the platform on their very first encounter. “I apologize for our appearances; we weren’t expecting you to be this early” she admitted timidly.

Harry gave her the most awkwardly charming smile of embarrassment while his cheeks coloured red. “I think we should be the ones apologizing. Albus insisted that we should come this early. Maybe we should just go back a little later?”

“Nonsense!” she frowned, “those portkeys are single-use only. If you take them back now, you won’t be able to return for the party.” Despite the coldness of the weather, she came walked towards them and took both Harry and James’ hand into her own. “Let’s get you boys warmed up, shall we?”

Like clockwork she led the boys into the foyer of the large manor. Both Potter boys could not help the “oh” of amazement that escaped their lips. It was huge! Larger than the burrow and they thought it was the largest house on earth, apparently they were wrong because this house was almost as big as Hogwarts.

“Mr. Potter?” Astoria’s voice broke the momentary silence.

“Harry, please” he replied with bit of uncertainty, “calling us Potter, will cause too much trouble” he explained, motioning to the two boys currently beside him. 

“Harry then” she said with a twinkle of delight, “Might I inquire when Mrs. Potter shall be arriving? I do hope Scorpius was polite enough to invite the whole family?” a quick glance at the said boy, caused him to slightly jump.

“ _Oui, je n’ai, mama_ ”

But Harry cut it, stepping slightly in front of the younger Malfoy. “We did receive your invitation, although I would have to apologize for Ginny’s absence. My youngest caught a very nasty cold after our Quidditch game. We both thought best if she stayed behind with Lily.”

That caught the woman’s attention. “I am to assume that Mrs. Potter shan’t be joining us later this evening?”

Harry shook his head. Once inside of the Manor, it was nothing like Harry remembered it felt—warm; it felt like a home rather than a house. Memories came from back to him from the Final Battle, Hermione’s screams when Bellatrix scarred her arm. He shook it off at the expense of growing pale.

“Are you alright?” Draco’s voice came from behind him. Astoria had ushered the boys into the dining room for some breakfast and hot chocolate. Only the two of them remained in the hall way. “Did you remember your detention here?” Detention being used very lightly, so as not to stir anymore unwanted memories of the manor.

Harry slowly nodded. “Would you like to sit down?” He nodded once more.

Draco led his through various hallways, until finally into a room was exuded warmth. “This is the parlour. Am I too assuming to think that you would like to keep this current condition beyond your children’s notice?” He spoke, leading Harry to the nearest surface available. It so happens to be a very big day bed. He motioned for the shaky brunette to sit but their legs clashed against each other causing them to fall, Harry pinned beneath Draco.

“I…” he began but Harry’s arms instinctively wrapped around him. “Stay” the other man begged weakly.

“Harry, I..” Draco began to protest but one more he was cut off. “Just for a little while” He nodded, allowing his head to fit right into where Harry’s neck and shoulders met and inhaled the scent of the man he could never have. It was excruciating. The man he had always loved right here in his arms but he could not touch him, not in the way he wanted.

“Please” he whispered. Being in such close contact, having the heat seep from beneath him; it was enough for his body to react. It ached for him. Ever since that fateful kiss in his office, he had not stopped thinking about those lips, lips that were merely a few inches away from his. The arms around him tightened, reflecting the need from within him.

“Just a little while longer” the man beneath his repeated. While the rest of him might have mature over time, there was one part of his that was still reacted to Harry like he was a bloody teenager. He felt himself harden against Harry’s leg. He struggled to get free, never learning from their past experiences, making the problem grow from bad to worse.

“Harry I’ll…” he trailed off when the hands on his waist begin to roam. The brunette completely understood. “Me too” Harry whispered back, basking in the feeling of Draco’s form beneath his fingers. He had missed this scent of vanilla and spiced, it was enough to cause him to react as well. ‘ _Mine’_ the desperate thought burned in his mind as he felt underneath the robes and felt skin. The touch was nearly electric, making a shiver travel through both their spines.

The feeling of smooth skin beneath his hand was tantalizing. “Draco” the brunette whispered like a quiet prayer, murmuring the man’s name over and over again. A name he longed to call out to. It was more than a drug; it was an addiction, one that he would never be able to overcome. With each caress of pale flesh, his senses heightened. The flood of the all-familiar feeling flooded his like a river he could never outrun, pulling him deeper until he could never escape.

“Harry” the name ached on his lips, the dull pain that we will never forget. The distance between them was suffocating. The blonde needed more; he needed to feel those sinful lips on his own. “Harry” he said again and again, stronger each time while he clutched the fabric of the man’s shirt for dear life. It was something that he desperately wanted for so long. But it could never be his.

Draco felt his heart clench once more, reminiscent of their last night in his chambers. Would he be brave enough to say it once more? A calloused hand traced up his spine, from the end of his neck to the beginning of his arse. Harry’s fingers have warmed enough that it almost burned, etching the feeling into his skin so he would always remembers. He decided that he was not that brave at all, letting a loud groan escape his lips.

“Please” he called out. That groan was all Harry needed to finally snap. Feverishly he grabbed the blonde’s shoulders and hoisted him up, sealing their lips together in a kiss. It was more than magic; it was perfect. Tongues licked, tasted—wanting one another. Harry’s fingers scrambled for every piece of clothing they could open so that skin would touch skin. Hoisting Draco’s thin night shirt up, he began to gently suck a nipple.

Draco moaned in response, feeling teeth tease his sensitive nipples. He loved this man for his nipple-play. He loved his nipples being licked. He moaned again, arching to bring his body closer to the darker man. His legs, moving without his commands, grinding one of Harry’s in need of more friction to ease his need. His efforts were rewarded by a leg pressing closer to him.

It was too much, all too much because he could no longer breathe. “Stop” he whispered, taking every bit of his will to say. But the words died on his lips as Harry slipped a hand underneath his pajamas and touched him there. Fingers toying with the shaft and thumb playing along the slit, he groaned loudly in pleasure uncaring if he should be heard. Lips were on him once more as he came, shuddering with the orgasm.

He wished for a moment they weren’t in the manor. He wished he turned his head the other way. He wished they had not done this in the parlour because when he turned to breathe the more recent family painting caught his eye. He caught his breath in response. Pushing away, he pulled himself together.  
“I’m sorry” he whispered before swiftly away.

The parlour door closed with a thud. Harry was left dumbfounded with only the white stains on his clothes to prove that their encounter actually happened.

…

Draco spent the rest of the morning in their chambers, fully intent on avoiding Harry for the rest of the day. But Astoria seemed to have other plans; after a good hour of searching, she found the DADA professor in the library with a tattered book in hand.

“Harry” she called, immediately gaining the man’s attention.

 “Mrs. Malfoy” he greeted back with a blush. The way she looked at him made him feel like she could read all of the nasty thought he had about her husband.

“It’s Astoria, please” she remarked, with a hand playing coyly on her lips, “Mrs. Malfoy reminds me an awful lot about Narcissa, the only rightful Mrs. Malfoy around. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Astoria” he began, trying the name on his lips, such a peculiar name fitting for a peculiar person. Perhaps she knew something about them? Because her eyes were twinkling with mischief.

“Might I trouble you with a very small request?” she said in the most playful tone he’s ever heard, he could merely nod “Could you do me the honour of fetching my dear husband? I’ve got quite the handful watching over the boys.” She gave him a wink “You know just how _stubborn_ he is at times; I supposed you _could bring him out of hiding_.”

She was gone before Harry could utter any protest. POP. A house-elf appeared before him, telling him in a shaking voice “Mistress is asking Binky to be taking Mr. Potter to the Master. Mr. Potter is to be following Binky.”

Knowing how elves reacted upon ‘failure’ to do an order, Harry wordlessly followed the creature. The halls seemed endless, he could barely imagine being able to live in a house like this without getting lost. It was simply too grand for his liking. So many empty paintings on the walls, perhaps its occupants were currently elsewhere in the residence. They finally reached the end of the corridor, somewhere on the other side of the mansion.

“Mr. Potter is arriving” Binky told him and with another ‘POP’ she was gone as fast at the arrived.

Nothing was special about the door. It was not any grander than the rest of the doors along the corridor. There was no special marking; he always expected that the master bedroom be labelled with ‘ _Master Suite’,_ like in the French films but it was merely a plain wooden door which stood before him. Raising his hand into a fist, he assumed that it was more polite to knock this time.

But there was no response.

He brought his hand at level with the doorknob, half of him wishing it was locked and the other half wishing it open. He drew in a breath before turning it clockwise until he heard a ‘click’. With a small shove, the door crept open.

“Draco?” He called out into the darkness which was very dimly lit. “Draco, are you here?”

No answer came. Finally gathering up what courage remained in him, he stepped into the room, unconsciously locking the door behind him. The room opened up into a small study nook and an open fireplace. There were a few dying embers suggested that it has been lit earlier in the day. Auror training definitely helped, as he listened for the discreet rustling of sheets coming from the bedroom. He followed it quietly.

“Urgh!” the familiar went straight into his groin, followed by a scent that was unmistakable. What met his sight was beyond the realms of expectation—Draco with parted knees to his torso and hands in-between, working something into himself with a loud groan. The object glistened in the dim light, somewhat already half-way inside the blonde when a pale hand pushed it even deeper. The image burned a desire so deep that Harry felt his insides burn.

“Draco?” This time, he was close enough to be heard—then silver met green.

“Harry…” the hoarseness in Draco’s voice told Harry everything he needed to know. He was at the blonde’s side in an instant, in-between pale legs and crashing their lips together. The man tasted sweet and minty with coolness slipping from parted lips.

“Peppermint” Harry noted, earning a sly smirk from his partner, before locking their lips once more. Slower this time as he removed Draco’s arms from between their bodies and guided them around his shoulder. He could hear the other man panting with anticipation.

“Patience love” he cooed. His lover would only whimper in response.

Perhaps it was the bed, the sheets or even the duvets, because something about holding Draco in his arms right now felt so intimate. He divested the offending sheets until they were but memories lying beside them. He smoothed a hand over them, relishing in the feel of silk that were no comparison to his lover’s flesh and scent. Draco smelled like of sleep—like all those morning waking up next to him in the castle. It was enough to drive the brunette mad.  

Burying his face in the crook of Draco’s neck, he felt the soft blonde curls along his cheek as he inhaled. The musky scent that was purely Draco flooded his senses and his mind became blank. He could no longer think of anything else but the man currently in his arms. With skin so pale like it barely saw any sunlight, the flesh seemed perfect even with the faded marks of scars. With every caress it was as if Harry was willing himself to remember.

He sought out places where the blonde was weak and kissed every scar along the way. He reached the bone jutting out of Draco’s collar, earning a fierce hiss from the man when he gently bit down. It was not enough to draw blood but definitely hard enough to leave a bruise. He travelled lower, feeling the thumping of his lover’s heart on his lips and beneath his hands as he roamed the muscled chest—it was sturdy and steady just like its owner.

Harry padded over what was left of the sheets, crawling on all fours with Draco’s legs resting on either thigh. “I want you” he said unabashedly, almost like an animal, with his eyes darkening with lust. Draco blushed fiercely, there were only a few times when Harry had been so crude, so blatant in voicing his desires. The once shy boy had already become man.

“Say yes” the brunette cried out in desperation. It was because he still has control, he still remembered the night in Draco’s chambers, and still needed the blonde to want this as much as him. “Please” he begged because what he feels—because these feelings are not unrequited.

Draco searched those deep green eyes, recognizing the raw emotion behind those words. Harry was asking for his consent, not just physically; Harry was asking for his heart. Could he really do it? After so many years, the man was right in front of him and asking for his love. Is he willing to risk everything once more for a second chance at love? Was he willing to stop running?

“Yes” he breathe out in barely a whisper.

They kissed again, softer, smoother, and even more tantalizingly slower than the last. Both wishing that they could stop time or, at the very least, slow it exponentially just to make the moment last. Harry rocked their hips together; Draco’s bare flesh rubbing against the hardness in his pants. It was delicious friction between them, just enough to entice but not nearly enough for them to finish. Their lips half-parted but barely touching, breathes mingling in shallow gasps.

Forehead to forehead, chest to chest, their hips in a steady motion grinding together; it was like fantasy. Both were afraid to move to quickly, afraid that any sudden motion would scare the other away. They took it leisurely, deliberately gentle which each touch meticulously calculated. Draco caressed the side of Harry’s face, pushing away those unruly dark tresses which he adored so he could look into those unending evergreen eyes.

“Make love to me” he whispered.

Harry readily complied. He dipped his head and leaned in for a kiss, pecking Draco on the lips before proceeding to something a little more firm. He kissed and licked a trail of light butterfly kisses along the man’s pale torso and stomach, relishing in the feel of the bumps and scars of the war—thanking the heavens after each one because the blonde was still alive. He continued his slow machinations until he reached Draco’s weeping member. He began by cautiously licking the tip, basking in the taste of salty bitterness on tongue. The man wantonly arched beneath him, greedily asking for more. Pale hands tightening their grasps on his shoulder, urging him lower.

Draco’s musky scent ignited the embers of desire from the depths of his stomach. He smelled of sex and want—pure want that was unmistakable. But it was mixed with something else, a sweet and minty that was only popular during yuletide season. Dipping his tongue, Harry experimentally licked a thin line of saliva on the puckered flesh, making the man quiver. It tasted like Christmas morning after the first sips of coffee. It was naughty and delightful.

Images of what he had just witnessed replayed in his head on repeat until all he could imagine was that thick, spiral coloured shaft burying itself inside the blonde over and over again. He could only imagine how deep it had gone. Feeling the need to rise to the challenge, he heaved the blonde up against his chest and thighs to give him better access to the candy-coated flesh. He pushed long pale legs farther apart for more clearance, until the man was almost perpendicular to the bed.

“What are you—u!” Draco’s pleas were replaced with moans as Harry’s tender muscle began smoothing over the tender flesh of his backside. _Too long_ , he thought; it has been too long since he was touched there. Each swipe of tongue caused a wave of electric pulses traveling up his spine, making the hairs on his forearms rise. He scrambled for those broad tanned shoulders but they were simply too far, so helplessly he clawed at the sheets trying to find anything to ground his emotions. Meanwhile Harry grew bolder, experimentally moving his tongue in circles while inside the blonde. 

“No please” Draco begged, feeling the twisting feeling in his gut begin go grow. But the other man was relentless, even so far as to push a teasing finger inside him. It was the feeling of being filled, one that he has been longing for. “Harry please” he moaned, one leg beginning to grow numb and twitching beyond his control. His toes curled involuntarily and he began to shake. “Harry…”

He could feel the strain on the hands tightening on his thighs, along with the strain that the position was doing on lower back. His muscles ached as he felt the other man push into him. Once again, he was overwhelmed with the feeling of being filled. It was so good, it was soothing. He could hear the gentle squeaks from the bed, the sound of wood pushing against wood, and the steady pace Harry had set for them. It felt like coming home.

“Please” he could merely whisper, desperately reaching for his lover’s neck. He could feel the sweat on his fingertips which were causing raven strands to his skin. With every breath, he could inhale the scent of Harry and sex swirling in the air. He could hear the ragged breathing of the other man and the passion of every thrust. He accepted it—the love and the pain that went with loving this man. Between hoarse whispers and fleeting touches, the rest became a blur.

“I loved you” he thought, unaware that he had spoken his thoughts aloud. The words froze Harry’s movements. He stared into piercing silver eyes, being absorbed in the waves of sadness they portrayed. Love blossomed in his heart because for the first time in twenty-one years he could feel just how much the blonde loved him. Realizing how the other man also suffered with their distance.

His throat dried, tongue sticking to the bottom of his mouth, he asked “How about now?”

“How about you?” came the unexpected reply. He responded by once more taking pink swollen lips. They fought for dominance but uncaring who succeeded. No more words came after that; each touch was reassuring, each caress promising and every mark on flesh felt like a seal—sealing their promise to each other.

When Draco woke, he was alone. No traces of the brunette in sight, it was like everything was simple erased. The only proof he has of their encounter was the sticky liquid oozing from his bum as he stood. He could feel the sting in his chest once more. “Tempus” he cast to check the time, “good, I’m not yet late”. He walked over to the bathroom, feeling the tingle between his thighs.

After a quick shower, he mustered up enough energy to reach for the cabinets for his clothes. There, Astoria’s elegant script met his eyes.

_‘Time to play cat, dear’_


End file.
